


Feeling Lonely

by oswinpond



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, also pre-apocalypse, just some self indulgent fluff, just... soft, no beta we die like gerry, okay this is my first ever fic on here so i hope yall like it!, post 159, scotland road trip, the author also abuses italics because they want to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oswinpond/pseuds/oswinpond
Summary: Jon stepped back, looking like he was going to leave, but Martin squeezed his hand, gently keeping him in place.“Would- could you-”“Stay?” Jon finished softly, eyes never leaving Martin’s face.Just some self-indulgent Jonmartin fluff!! It's post-Lonely and Martin has a nightmare; good thing he didn't go to the safe house alone!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 14
Kudos: 143





	Feeling Lonely

Martin wasn’t quite sure how they’d gotten the car, nor could he entirely recall when Jon learned about Daisy’s safe house in Scotland. Christ, he didn’t even know how Jon knew they were _in_ Scotland in the first place. The last few hours since he’d been pulled from the Lonely had been a blur of exhaustion and pain, and all he wanted to do was sleep for the next decade. Maybe the next century.

He leaned his head against the window, shutting his eyes in an attempt to avoid slipping back into the blurring fog that swirled in his subconscious, struggling to hold back the idea that he wasn’t wanted, wasn’t _needed_ by the man sitting next to him in the driver’s seat.

Someone’s fingers gently slid over his palm before they interlaced with his own, and Martin opened his eyes again in mild surprise to see Jon looking at him with gentle concern and _love_ written all over his face. He gave him a reassuring smile and Jon smiled back.

“Are you alright?” Jon asked, looking back at the road just in time to steer the car away from the stone wall lining the pavement.

Martin opened his mouth to say “yes,” but only ended up having a coughing fit as fog spilled out of his mouth. He used his free hand to try and stifle the freezing grey mist, but it didn’t help and all he could do was choke quietly and watch the fog slip out from between his fingers and then vanish into the air before it reached the floor mat. The only relief Martin was currently feeling was that Jon hadn’t noticed the fog yet and was still focused on the drive, so the redhead took a moment and stuffed the awful, bleak greyness back down and managed to choke out:

“I’m alright.”

Jon looked at him again and then nodded before kissing his hand and turning back to look out the windshield. They turned onto a side street and Jon nodded to a house at the end.

“That’s the one.”

Martin frowned. “I didn’t think Daisy was into gardening,” he remarked, pushing his bangs back from his face.

Jon took in the sight of the yellow, pink, and lilac flowers dotting the yard around the remarkably nondescript building and blinked. “I didn’t either,” he replied, before kissing Martin’s hand one more time and getting out.

Martin sat in the car for a moment before following. Every part of him ached from going from solid to fog to solid again, and he leaned against the house while Jon picked the lock and let them in.

“Where’d you learn to pick locks?” he asked.

Jon turned red. “High school,” he muttered. “... It was to impress a boy.”

“Did it work?”

“No, but it’s been useful in other ways.”

Martin smiled at him, then dropped onto the couch, slid his glasses off, and plonked his face into his hands. After a moment the other half of the sofa dipped as Jon sat down, and an arm found its way around his shoulders.

“‘M so tired,” he mumbled without opening his eyes.

“The bedroom’s over that way,” Jon said in a voice that was so soft it made Martin’s chest _ache_ in a way it hadn’t since Peter Lukas had shown up.

Martin smiled at the blur that was now Jonathan Sims and put his glasses back on, allowing Jon to lead him down the hall and into the room.

Jon stepped back, looking like he was going to leave, but Martin squeezed his hand, gently keeping him in place.

“Would- could you-”

“Stay?” Jon finished softly, eyes never leaving Martin’s face.

Martin nodded, loosening his grip on Jon’s hand but not letting go entirely as he stepped back into the room to turn on the lights. When he turned back to look at Jon the other man’s expression shifted from something achingly soft to something stricken, but before he could ask what was wrong there was a gentle hand on his cheek and fingers brushing away the tears falling fast from his eyes.

“I’m not going to leave you, Martin,” Jon said, and in that moment Martin believed him. All the time spent pining after Jonathan Sims, all the cups of tea, all the file organizing, all the stupid time spent wishing he could reach out and take his hand or kiss his forehead; all of it felt like nothing but a bad dream, because this was real. _This_ was real and he was here now, and god damn it he had waited so long for this.

Martin stepped forwards carefully and slowly, not wanting to overstep unspoken boundaries. He moved slowly when he kissed Jon’s forehead, but Jon didn’t move slowly when he kissed Martin back on the lips, and Martin moved faster when he kissed Jon back.

Martin eventually stepped back towards the bed and nearly fell over when he did so as his foot caught on the corner of the lone chair in the room. Jon grabbed his arm to steady him and Martin smiled at him gratefully.

“Sorry, just a little sore from… everything. Sort of uncoordinated.”

Jon nodded and gave Martin a tired smile. “I know the feeling.”

The Archivist walked around to the other side of the bed and they both kicked their shoes off before shucking whatever extra layers they had on into the corner and curling up underneath the blanket side by side. Martin shifted around so that he wasn’t invading Jon’s personal space and set his glasses next to Jon’s on the side table, then dropped his head back to the pillow.

“Night, Jon,” he said quietly.

“Sleep well, Martin,” came the reply from the other side.

Martin wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but the nightmares arrived the second he did.

* * *

When Martin opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was. He’d just had a string of truly terrifying dreams about Peter and Elias, and he wasn’t in a hurry to return to _that_ , so he decided to look around the room. He was… where was he? 

_It’s Daisy’s safe house_ , his brain provided after a few seconds. He tried to think more. Had he gone there alone? Maybe someone else had gone with him, but he couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter. He was alone now. He was alone and there was fog everywhere, thick and cold and cloying and coating the side table and the bed and the floor, and it flowed through him as he turned less and less visible before disappearing entirely. He still sat on the bed, but he was completely intangible and invisible.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, shivering slightly as tears ran down his numb cheeks that weren’t really there, but he was roused from his thoughts by someone moving next to him. He looked down to see Jon stretch and yawn before sitting up and running a hand through his messy black and grey-streaked hair. It only took the Archivist a few seconds before he took in the fog-covered state of the room, and he immediately reached through Martin to grab his glasses.

 _It’s Jon_ , a little voice in Martin’s head said softly. _You can stop being lonely. Jon’s here._

 _He doesn’t want me_ , said another voice, and this one was louder. _He’s better without me, just like mum and_ everyone _else-_

“Martin? Martin!? Where are you!?” Jon ran out of the room before Martin could call him back, and suddenly the invisible assistant felt a pang of, of all things, guilt. He’d made Jon worry. Jon, who had helped him in so many ways. Who had run into the Lonely after him even after Martin had pushed him away so _completely_ in those last months. Who was so stupid, and reckless, and absolutely _beautiful_ it broke Martin’s heart.

Martin Blackwood clung to those thoughts of Jonathan Sims as he clawed his way out of his mind and back into the real world, each memory of Jon pulling him further from his invisible fog cocoon and back into his blanket burrito. The freezing mist didn’t go away, but that was alright. He had gotten enough of himself back together to see Jon.

The door opened again and Jon stood there looking completely panicked before his eyes fell on the still slightly transparent figure sitting on the bed. In less than a second he was across the room and hugging Martin tightly, and the sudden rush of warmth and _life_ gave him exactly the pull he needed to fully return to the world. Unfortunately, the second he did he was hit with a tidal wave of emotions and an exhausted sob tore from his throat.

He pushed his face into Jon’s shoulder and sobbed, everything with Peter and Elias crashing down onto him in full force, his nightmares from the prior night only giving fuel to the fire. Jon shifted to sit more comfortably and held him tightly, stumbling only slightly over the words as he comforted him. It was clear he hadn’t had much practice, but it helped Martin all the same just having him close by; knowing that even when he was falling apart and sobbing into Jon's sweater Jon would still be there for him. Martin felt one hand gently running up and down his back while the other buried itself in his hair, and after what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, he started to relax again.

The two of them sat there even after Martin stopped crying completely, and for a moment the only sounds were Martin sniffling and their shared breathing.

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, sitting back slightly to look him in the eye.

Martin nodded. “Just- had a nightmare,” he said, and cleared his throat.

Jon nodded slowly. The two of them sat there for a moment, neither one quite sure how to proceed.

“I can make us breakfast?” Martin said eventually, his face going slightly pink. “Unless you’d like to, although I don’t even know if we have any food here and I mean we probably don’t because I don’t think this place has been used in a while-”  
“Martin,” Jon said, cutting through his ramble. Martin’s mouth snapped shut like Jon had just compelled him (he hadn’t) and he looked at him with round eyes so big it almost made Jon laugh. It was absolutely adorable, and he didn’t know (or Know) how he had ever thought he disliked Martin Blackwood.

“Martin,” he started again, “There isn’t any food here, and even if we wanted to go to the village, it’s five in the morning. Nothing’s open yet.”

“Oh- OH, right!” Martin looked at the clock and winced. “Sorry for waking you up so early.”

Jon placed his hands on Martin’s face and gently turned his head back to face him, away from the clock. “You don’t need to apologize.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “Given that I don’t think either one of us wants to go back to sleep, how about we, just…”

He trailed off awkwardly, but even in the dim light of the room Martin could see his fierce blush. Martin decided to offer an out rather than watch him flounder as he was reasonably sure he knew what Jon was thinking, but he couldn’t help but find Flustered Jon one of the cutest things he’d ever seen. Possibly _the_ cutest, although the cows on the way there had offered strong competition.

“Cuddle?” Martin offered, and he could feel a blush traitorously sneaking across his own cheeks.

Jon nodded, clearly relieved that Martin had understood his half sentence, and the two of them settled down next to each other. There was a moment of awkward pause before Martin pulled Jon into his arms and dragged the blankets over them both. Another pause, then a lot of shifting around to accommodate each other (neither one of them had done something like this in a very long time and it took a moment to remember how not to stab the other person with an elbow) but they eventually settled down again with Jon laying on top of Martin, arms wrapped around his back and fingers tangled in the fabric of his t-shirt, and Martin with his face buried in Jon’s hair and his arms wrapped around the slight figure using him as a pillow. They were talking about nothing in particular, but it was everything.

“Martin I’m telling you, brown rats aren’t a thing.”

“Jon you went to Norway! There’s literally a rat called a Brown Norway Rat! Brown rats exist!”

“No they don’t! They’re all just white and gray.”

“I’m getting my phone and I’m showing you a picture because brown rats absolutely exist,” Martin shot back. There was a lightheartedness in their banter and a softness in Jon’s voice that hadn’t been there a few months ago, and Martin closed his eyes to savor the moment. He disentangled one arm from around Jon to rub at his eyes as he yawned, realizing again just how tired he was.

“Are you still sore from yesterday?”

Martin startled slightly and he blinked owlishly at Jon.

“Wh- oh, no. Not really.” He smiled. “Thank you for asking, though.”

Jon nodded and put his head back down on Martin’s chest. “Let me know if you want me to get up.”

Martin tightened his arms playfully and Jon- Jon _squeaked_. Martin couldn’t help it. He laughed, and then he kissed him. How could he _not_ ? It was the most adorable, fantastic sound Martin had ever heard, and he _desperately_ wanted to get Jon to make it again. Jon’s face was glowing like a stop sign and Martin broke into uncontrollable giggles at the expression he was making.

By the time he wrestled his laughter back under control Jon was laughing too which made _him_ start laughing again, and the two of them were both breathless by the time they finally finished.

There was a moment of comfortable silence before Martin giggled again, lost in thought about their time at the Institute. “I still can’t believe you thought I was a _ghost_.”

Martin grinned as he watched the gears in Jon’s head turn and then click into place as he remembered the storage room where they hid out from Prentiss all those months ago. “That- THAT was a PERFECTLY REASONABLE assumption!”

Martin laughed again, pulling Jon tighter to his chest and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “No it wasn’t.”

Jon squinted at him and then made a face and stuck his tongue out. Was he- he WAS. He was pouting. Jonathan Sims was _pouting_ , and he was sprawled across Martin’s body with his arms wrapped around him in a hug and his hair was tangled and messy and his glasses were crooked and his sweater was too big on him and it clashed with his eyes and Martin had never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and Jon’s eyes widened. Martin could practically feel the heat radiating off Jon’s face as he blushed fiercely, and there had to be some universal deity besides the fear entities because there was no way Jonathan Sims could look like that and _not_ make Martin fall even further head over heels (which really wasn’t fair, he was besotted already). Martin pondered briefly the idea that the Web had dragged them together. He decided a second later that he didn’t care. There wasn’t any proof, and even if it had brought him and Jon together, that was all he’d ever really wanted, so. A win for the Web.

“I’ve always liked you,” confessed Martin with a grin.

“What?” Jon looked thoroughly flustered now, and Martin mentally marked another point on the Make Jon Flustered board in his head.

“Since I first started working for you. I mean- not that quickly. But it wasn’t too long after. I think… it was definitely helped along by bringing you tea every day, because then I got to see you even if you pretended I wasn’t there.” He said it simply and without blame, but he still felt the way Jon’s arms tightened around him.

“I’m… sorry for that. I was a prick to you.”

Martin grinned. “Well. All could be forgiven if you stop blaming yourself for five seconds and get up here and kiss me.”

There was no hesitation when Jon leaned up and kissed Martin back, though it lasted for a lot longer than five seconds. When they finally broke apart Martin looked at him again and grinned, then brushed Jon’s hair back from his face.

“So, want to go into the village for breakfast?”

Jon made a disgruntled noise, burying his face in Martin’s shirt. Martin laughed.

“Staying here. Got it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy! This is my first ever fic on this site so I hope you enjoyed it! I'm not sure if I stayed in canon at ALL but like... self indulgent... anyway feel free to give commentary!
> 
> Also if y'all want to request something or just say hi feel free to send me an ask or message me on Tumblr @crowleycrawley!


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